coping with the diagnosis

While cleaning a messy drawer, I began to smile and then chuckle at the foolish objects I have kept. When will I ever need a used twisty tie or a bent nail? And then there are the keys that don’t seem to fit anything. Am I just deceiving myself in believing these should be saved? Don’t laugh at me, laugh with me.
I believe laughter can change the world, one giggle at a time. Come on, give it a...

On Sept. 7, 1994, my husband, Curry, and I returned home from our appointment with the neurologist. We were stunned, shocked by the diagnosis of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease) and the prognosis that I had three years to live.
I was 36. The ultimate procrastinator, I had done nothing with my life. No family, no successful career — nothing lasting or memorable.